How is it you snuck into my dreams last night
Looking so happy, fresh and lucently pretty
Smiling and as young as you were so long ago
And of all things rowing a boat so easily on a canal?
When you smiled and opened that box in the boat,
The color brown, wooden and like a three foot coffin,
And pulled two identical men dolls out of it in suits
And tossed them into the river like undersized fish
The meaning of that curious, surprising action
Perplexed my dreaming mind. Was it me and me?
Bob Boyd
Author: BobBoyd
Age 80. Cancer survivor since 3 years ago. Work out 3 times a week. Ride my exercise bike 2 hours a day. Live a solo reclusive life. Retired a year ago from working with the elderly in a nonprofit. Started writing poetry a little over a year ago; most poems I write are fictional but some are not. Spiritual with a permanent spiritual experience. Write poems on many subjects. Always researching for many of my poems and because of my unquenchable thirst for knowledge. After reading and hearing about many near death experiences and death bed visions, I believe death is the ultimate awakening and the relocation of a lifetime. You may believe differently, but you have the right to be wrong -- I'm just messing with you. :-)
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